


never danced like this before

by prettydizzeed



Category: High School Musical (Movies)
Genre: Baseball, F/F, Flirting, Getting Together, High School Musical References, M/M, Sexual Tension, but most of them are directly from the movie so it's not my fault, so many baseball innuendos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2018-11-07 18:24:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11064609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettydizzeed/pseuds/prettydizzeed
Summary: Ryan is thanking every deity he can think of for his competitive streak, because otherwise, he would've lost his fine motor skills the second Chad checked him out, muscle memory be damned.---"I Don't Dance" was my gay awakening 7 years too soon to realize it. Canon was a coward and didn't make them official so here's some decade-late wish fulfillment.





	1. shouldn't talk about it

**Author's Note:**

> Title and chapter titles from "Stolen Dance" by Milky Chance

Ryan is thanking every deity he can think of for his competitive streak, because otherwise, he would've lost his fine motor skills the second Chad checked him out, muscle memory be damned. There was no way that once-over could be attributed solely to “sizing up the competition.”

As it is, he’s channeling every ounce of acting ability into not blushing. Keeping up his end of the banter is easy, familiar, but reacting—or, more accurately, trying not to react—to Chad’s comments is actually torture. Like, does he even realize what he’s saying? _I’ll show you how I swing_? This game is an hour-long innuendo. It has more homoerotic subtext than Twelfth Night, for fuck’s sake.

So as much as he wants to respond “Is that a promise?” he bites it back and laughs instead, the exaggerated haughtiness echoing in his ears, because Chad is smirking and twirling the bat and _fuck_ , straight boys should not be allowed to look this good, for the sake of his sanity.

When Ryan dances across the diamond, Chad calls out, “I'm here to play ball, not dance hall, man! I'm making a triple, not a curtain call.” And he fucking _bows_ , hand twirling, natural as anything, and Ryan curses whoever invented heterosexuality.

“Hey, you better spin that pitch you're gonna throw me!” Chad calls the next time Ryan is pitching to him, and Ryan bites his lip and repeats _he doesn't know what he's saying he doesn't know what he's saying_ because the alternative is a lot harder to compute and looks from most angles like Chad’s fucking with him, and not in the way he keeps implying.

So Ryan rolls his eyes and says “You could hit any pitch I threw,” and hopes it just sounds like a compliment.

“How about stop talking so much and show me what you got, Evans,” Chad fires back, and fuck if he doesn't want to follow through on that.

It goes on like this until Ryan has exhibited an impossible amount of self-control, and then they're sprinting home and Chad beats him there but more importantly _Chad’s head is between his legs_ , Ryan’s legs draped over his arms, and despite all of the exertion, he's pretty sure he doesn't breathe until Chad's out from under him and they're standing up. And his team lost but, wow, what a way to go.

He turns to go because it feels like the spell is broken; the game is over, therefore so is this other game he's not sure Chad knows they've been playing. But then Chad shouts, “Hey, Evans!” and it takes everything in him not to whirl around, but he's so glad he doesn't because it means, thank God, that Chad can't see his face when he continues, “I'm not saying I’m gonna dance in the show. But if I did… What'd you have me do?”

Dear _God_ , Ryan hopes he doesn't gape for more than a split second, hopes his smirk looks to everyone else like it's because he's gotten what he wanted, hopes they can't tell how far he is from getting what he really wants.

He walks off without responding because how do you trust yourself to reply to _that_ , he's an actor but he's not superhuman, and catches his breath against a back wall until he figures the locker room is empty; he really needs to make sure this shirt doesn't stain. His brain unhelpfully supplies a reminder of them sprawled across each other on home plate, and yeah, it's worth it even if he can't get the dirt out.

There's no one else in the locker section, at least, so he prays the showers are equally empty and grabs the emergency Woolite from his bag. He carefully takes the shirt off—stained designer is still designer—and heads to the sink—

And Chad Danforth is walking out with a towel around his waist. Ryan looks away, feeling light-headed.

“Oh, hey, man. Headed to shower?” Chad asks, flaunting his ability to talk in this situation, and Ryan forcefully composes himself.

“No, I don't really have enough time. Just wanted to rinse this before it's too late to get it out.” He gestures to the shirt and swallows.

“You would've had time if you hadn't been so slow getting your ass over here,” Chad laughs, walking to a locker and pulling his clothes out.

“Oh—no, I uh, I don't do communal showers.” He realizes this sounds exactly like a snobby rich kid response, so he elaborates, “Other people get… uncomfortable. With me being there.”

Chad shakes his head. “People are idiots, man. So you're just going to be sweaty all day?”

Ryan wrinkles his nose. “No, I'm going to shower at home.”

“Hell no.” Ryan blinks. “You've gotta stay for the team lunch.”

“I wasn't invited.”

“Well, you're the choreographer; you're part of this team now, and I'm inviting you, so hurry your ass up and shower before Gabriella’s mom’s brownies are gone.”

“Oh—okay, thanks, just let me wash this first.”

“Did you hear me say brownies, man? There’s not time, I'll do it. Here, you can wear my stuff.” He shoves his clothes toward Ryan. “The pants, too, if you want it to match,” and he's smirking, but Ryan hesitates because the list of things he'd let Chad do is long, but _designer_.

Chad rolls his eyes. “I've been cleaning my own jerseys for years, I won't screw it up.”

So Ryan hands him the shirt and goes to the shower, thanking a dozen more deities that Chad is heading to the sink furthest away, not that that's minimizing the amount of times he thinks _holy shit I’m naked and Chad Danforth is in the room_.

Once he's out and dressed—and these are Chad's clothes and they smell like him and holy shit—he tosses his pants to Chad, who has Ryan’s shirt on and the towel still around his waist, and Ryan sees that he did mostly get the stain out although it's still damp and white and just see-through enough to kill him.

He goes to get his hat while Chad gets dressed, and then Chad comes up behind him and settles his baseball cap on Ryan's head, then adjusts it to the angle he always wears them at, and Ryan wonders how much attention he was paying during that golf game.

“Like I said, you're part of the team now. It looks good on you.” Chad smiles, and Ryan grins and puts his hat on top of Chad's ponytail, and wow, if he didn't love his hats so much, he'd tell him to keep it, _wow_.

“So. Brownies?” he says before he can say something for which he'll hate himself, and Chad whoops and they run to join the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should be embarrassed about writing HSM fanfic in the year of our lord 2017, but fuck it, I have no regrets. And I've already started another chapter.


	2. and I'm at your door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chad nudges him. “You call that a little game?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "It's Only Dancing" by Jeremy Messersmith

They're sitting down beside each other and about to eat when Chad nudges him. “You call that a _little_ game?”

And of course it just reminds him of Chad's eyes on him, _“You got game?”_ and how much Ryan had wanted to say _“Come and find out,”_ but had to settle for a self-confident shrug.

He grins. “Little League World Series. Newport, Rhode Island.” He waits for Chad to stop widening his eyes and shift back to looking teasingly unimpressed before he finishes. “Champions.”

Chad gapes and he smiles just a bit smugly.

“Wait, what?! Dude, why'd you quit playing, then?”

Ryan shrugs. “Oh, you know. Communal showers and everything else that comes with the team sports package.” Chad looks incredulous, so he continues. “I make people uncomfortable.”

Chad shakes his head. “You should've tried out for the East High team. Nobody here”—he gestures to the surrounding tables—“is uncomfortable or whatever around you.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “It was literally less than three hours ago that Gabriella was trying to convince a shocked crowd to let me choreograph for them. And that's a space where they're used to being around me. Don't get me wrong, I love theatre, but no one knows what to do with seeing the gay guy outside of the drama department.”

“Hey, that's not true. Everyone was all standoffish because of what Sharpay’s been doing, not because you're…”

Ryan smirks. “Case in point.”

“What?”

“You won't even say it, and you—” _have spent the entire afternoon flirting with me._ “Have actually spent some time with me. Troy, for example, looks like he wants to kill me every time I’m within ten feet of Gabriella, and I don't anticipate that improving once he figures out there's no chance of me stealing his girlfriend.”

“Yeah, well, Troy’s been a dick lately. I get that the college stuff is a big opportunity, but it doesn't seem worth it if you've gotta like, sell your soul.”

“Sharpay accepts nothing less.” He shrugs as he says it. It's a fact of life.

“You speaking from experience?”

“She's a fucking force of nature, it's hard not to get swept along with her. Everyone pretty much sees us as the same person now.”

“Nah, man, you're the Less Evil Twin.” Chad nudges him, grinning, so he laughs.

“Why, thank you, Danforth, how generous.” It still feels like flirting, and it still feels like Chad can't tell.

Taylor and Gabriella come over to their table, and Taylor adjusts Ryan's hat on Chad's head and gives him a look that's pleasant and so _knowing_ that he starts to reconsider his assumptions about her and Chad.

When they say they have to get home, Ryan nods. “I should probably get going, too.”

“When should I give you your clothes back?” Chad asks.

“You can stop by tomorrow, if that works,” Ryan says, hoping Chad won't point out that they could just bring them to Lava Springs tomorrow. He doesn't. Instead, he smiles.

“Sure thing. Good game again, dude.”

Ryan congratulates him and goes to his car. He spends the whole ride home thinking about Chad's ponytail, and how Ryan’s shirt was just barely too tight across his chest, and how close he'd sat, sides pressed together, even though there was enough room on the bench that it wasn't necessary.

Then, as he pulls into the driveway, he thinks about how Chad wouldn't even say the word “gay,” and he's suddenly glad Sharpay is too bent on town domination to see through his smiles lately. He doesn't need another lecture about the pointlessness of crushing on straight boys, thank you.

As if there's anyone else to crush on, anyway. New Mexico isn't exactly full of out and proud high schoolers. And when your options are limited, you take what's available. Sometimes that's five minutes of making out with the guy from Boston at a one-act competition. Sometimes it's forgivable delusions about heterosexual athletes.

  
Ryan spends all of the next morning doing yoga, until he's tired and sore enough that he can't think of anything except his muscles and how much water he needs to drink. Then, he waits until he knows Chad is on break to go order his veggie wrap, because as awkward as it is to have anyone he knows serving him—seriously, Sharpay, what the hell were you thinking—that would be exponentially worse. Sure, Chad already only calls him by his last name, but adding a “Mr.” in front of it sounds… gross. And laced with more privilege than he could dissect in an entire semester.

He takes his lunch out to the pool because he can (privilege) and because he doesn't want to know yet if yesterday was a one-time thing. The level of camaraderie had seemed pretty damn high, too high to do away with entirely the next day, but maybe that's just the East High Team Spirit or some other concept he's never been let in on.

He decides after he's done eating to go home, re-organize his room to a playlist of show tunes, and try to think of the most nonchalant way to invite Chad inside.

  
Three and a half hours later, he decides there is no nonchalant way to invite the guy you’ve liked since the beginning of junior year who only started directly interacting with you yesterday and quite possibly detests all you stand for into your house. Fine then. He’ll do this the old-fashioned way: with lots of embarrassment, and an excuse if it all goes to hell.

So when Chad shows up, Ryan makes himself stay seated until the doorbell rings, then opens the door. “Hey,” he says brightly, because that's how he feels, looking at Chad, _bright_ , natural like the sun, “your stuff is inside, want to come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” Chad says, and Ryan reminds himself _you are a fucking actor, you can bite back a damn nervous giggle_ and shows him to the kitchen.

“We have lemonade and stuff, if you want something.” He grabs Chad's clothes from the adjacent laundry room. “And this sparkling water crap that Sharpay likes, but I recommend avoiding it. Leaves a bad taste in your mouth.”

“So they basically bottled the experience of interacting with her.” He shouldn't laugh—even if it is true, she's his sister—but he's been wanting to smile like this since he heard the car pull up and it's a good excuse.

“The miracle of modern technology.” Ryan sets Chad's clothes down on a stool by the counter and Chad perches on the other one. Then he grabs a bottle of water, hoping that doing so will steer Chad back to the drink question and the unspoken _how long are you staying?_

“And yeah, a water would be good. A normal one.”

Ryan smirks slightly to hide the impending embarrassment. “Nothing in this house is normal.”

He passes Chad the Fiji Water, and seriously, name brand water? He loves his mom but come on, this feels like flaunting something, like they're the favorite son in this story and their coat of many labels won't let you forget it. Like everyone else in this town would leave him to die. He prays Chad doesn't look at the price on the side of the bottle.

If Chad notices, he doesn't say anything, just drinks some of the water and hands Ryan his clothes.

“I'm going to go put these upstairs, I'll be right back.” He barely manages not to sprint up the stairs but then hesitates as he starts to hang the shirt up. It's been washed—the faint traces of the dirt stain that were too stubborn to be removed in the locker room sink are gone, and it smells like Chad's detergent.

He'd been worried about washing Chad's clothes (at night, so Sharpay wouldn't ask what the hell he was doing), if it was weird, but now he's relieved he did.

He puts the pants on another hanger and tries to figure out what to say when he goes back down. Video games are a normal, platonic activity for teenagers hanging out for the first time, right?

Somehow he doubts Chad will be into Wii Yoga or any edition of Just Dance.


	3. I want you by my side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no posting schedule we update like amateurs
> 
> title from "Stolen Dance" again

“We could watch something, if you want.” He tries to say it like it's a normal suggestion. It probably _is_ a normal suggestion, but how is his alienated ass supposed to know that. “We have Netflix, Hulu…”

“Wait, dude, you have Hulu? Why have I not been taking advantage of this for all of high school? Please tell me you watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine.”

“Is that… the cop show?” He feels bad after thinking it, but he's surprised Chad doesn't just watch sports.

“It's not _just_ a cop show. It might not have any Broadway references, but you'll like it, I promise.” Chad's grinning, which makes him even more unfairly impossible to disappoint, so Ryan heaves an exaggerated sigh.

“Fiiine, we’ll watch your cop show.” Chad barely waits for him to log in before stealing the laptop (Ryan could cast it to the TV, but he chooses not to mention that, because Chad is slightly pressed against him and if it's on the TV then the whole couch is fair game) and searching the show. He crows triumphantly as he clicks on it.

“Okay, this isn't the first episode because Jake’s a dick for the first several and I'm not going to put up with that again, so you'll have to watch those on your own time. Ready to have a new obsession?”

“Doubtful.”

Chad rolls his eyes and presses play.

“That's Captain Holt,” he says as a character comes on screen, “Jake is my favorite, but he's a close second.”

Ryan has to actively keep his jaw from dropping when the captain mentions his husband.

Later, the camera focuses on his desk, and—

“We could get you a little rainbow flag like that for your dance studio,” Chad says, elbowing him.

Ryan does something close to a snort. “I can list at least a dozen Lava Springs patrons who would have an aneurysm.”

“Oh, come on, it's not like they don't know—” he stops as Ryan quirks an eyebrow.

“I'm perfectly aware that I'm borderline-obnoxiously camp. That doesn't stop sweet, bigoted old ladies from asking about my girlfriend.”

Chad still looks surprised. “Do you tell them?”

“And what, have them pray for my soul? We both have better things to do. And I don't want to cost my parents any business.”

“Shit.”

Ryan shrugs.

“So do you just, what, describe your boyfriend?” Ryan raises an eyebrow again. “What?”

“You know, you can just ask.”

“Okay, well, I'm asking.” Well. That's two days in a row that he's gotten this _is this really happening_ feeling.

“No boyfriend. Not exactly a lot of options.”

“I mean, you can't be the only gay person at school—isn't there a statistic about that? Like, one out of ten people, right?”

Ryan doesn't mention Kelsi coming to school crying, doesn't mention _I'd be your fake straight date if there was anyone left who thought I was straight_ , doesn't mention all the songs that don't get belted out by half of the student body. Instead, he shrugs. “Compulsory heterosexuality’s a bitch.”

Chad laughs in a disbelieving sort of way. “Man, where do you get some of this stuff? I’ve never heard like half of the words you've used in the last five minutes.”

“The internet can be a beautiful thing, Danforth,” Ryan replies, stretching his arms behind his head.

“Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

Ryan glances at him. “You're actually really educated, comparatively, though.”

He gets an elbow in the ribs for that. “What, you surprised?”

“I mean, kind of. ‘In Line for Basketball Scholarship, Track Athlete, Will Kick Your Ass at Baseball, Ally’—it doesn't really fit your résumé.”

“Not all athletes are homophobic douchebags.”

Ryan shrugs. “It's a pattern.”

“I dunno, I guess I kinda went through that stage and then realized I didn't want to be an asshole anymore. Taylor felt really guilty after all the shit that went down last year and how unsupportive we were with Troy and Gabriella, so she looked up all this stuff about creating an inclusive school, and some of it mentioned LGBT kids.”

“She made you read all that? What, was it the prerequisite to a date or something?”

“You can just ask, you know,” Chad mocks, but then shakes his head. “Nah, I wanted to read it. At first I just felt bad, you know, but then it was actually pretty interesting. And we're not dating. I used to tease her about becoming worthy enough to take her out or whatever, but I dunno, I didn't really want to, when I thought about it.”

 _Compulsory heterosexuality's a bitch_ , Ryan thinks, but it's wishful thinking and he tries to quash it. Not crushing on one girl does not a gay guy make.

After Chad leaves—once he's made Ryan promise to at least consider binge-watching the entire series—Ryan wonders if this was a one-time thing. Maybe he can bribe him with Hulu again—when does the next episode come out? Of course, even the fleeting thought leaves a bad taste in his mouth, to be expected of anything containing the word “bribe” by this point.

Maybe he shouldn't have worried, though, because the next day when he picks up his lunch, there's a phone number on his napkin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love B99 and I have no regrets. This was kinda already going to be set in present day, anyway, because what do I know about what teenagers did for fun in the 00's?


	4. I don't really know what I'm supposed to say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a short chapter but mlm+wlw friendships warm my soul
> 
> a huge thank you to everyone who's commented omg, y'all make me determined to keep writing this on a decent time frame. much love to everyone who left kudos, too!
> 
> chapter title from "Sing" by Ed Sheeran

_Smooth_ , he texts Chad.

 _I'm an athlete_ , is the almost instantaneous response. _Gotta have some game._

Ryan immediately texts Kelsi a summary of The Napkin Incident and Chad's text, along with _Is he flirting or is this normal straight boy behavior???_

 _Don't know._ she replies. _Don't like straight boys._

He ends up sending Chad a pretty lame _Fair enough_ before flopping on the bed. Nothing like some dramatics to lift one's spirit.

He wants to bring up the baseball game, but that might spoil its magic. Ryan's thought at least three times that he should've just kissed him, but reminded himself each time that trying to cause or solve someone's sexuality crisis was shit for freshman year when you didn't know better or the end of senior year when it didn't matter. Sure, it was summer and therefore hard to imagine going to school after having kissed Chad Danforth, but it didn't take much thought to know it wouldn't be fun. (The ensuing awkwardness, not the kissing. The kissing would definitely be fun.)

He can feel himself starting to mope, so he texts Kelsi again. _Starbucks in 20 mins? I'll buy._

She says yes, so he makes himself look less like he was indulging his grumpiness and grabs his wallet.

Kelsi’s already claimed their usual booth in the back corner, so he orders their drinks and joins her, sliding her cup across the table.

“It's summer, I can't believe you're still drinking black coffee.”

She rolls her eyes. “You're one to talk. You still drink those frappuccinos in the middle of January.”

“Touché.” He takes a sip of his drink. “He's not dating Taylor.”

“Did you just use the promise of a free coffee to lure me here for more relationship advice?” she teases.

Ryan shrugs. “Yes.”

Kelsi laughs. “In that case, me first.” She adjusts her hat, turning to scan the room, then looks at him. “Gabriella was talking to me and Taylor today. Troy has been, like, all kinds of douche apparently, getting her in trouble and stuff, and so Taylor was very firmly on the side of Dump His Ass, which of course I agree with, but I feel like it'd be wrong to say so because I have all these _ulterior motives_ , and there's the competing ulterior motive of me not wanting her to leave, which she's thinking about doing. If she breaks up with Troy. Which I honestly can't see happening.”

Ryan is kind of impressed that she's not breathing hard after all that. He supposes he should be used to it.

“Well.” He stirs the whipped cream into his drink with the straw. “First of all, you have a crush, you're not a comic book villain. ‘Ulterior motives’ is too… melodramatic for you. That's my forte. And you very carefully don't let it obscure your reasoning, anyway. Gabriella always plays by the rules, so if Troy’s getting her in trouble he's obviously not respecting her. Especially if he won't own up to it; he's obviously not the one close to being fired. I mean, we all know why that is, but still.” He squints a little, thinking. “I unfortunately can't override Sharpay's direct orders—everyone there knows who they should be afraid of, and it's not me—but I can talk to Fulton without her noticing and get Gabi a clean slate. That way, if she leaves, it's her own choice.”

“That's… actually a really great idea, wow, thank you. I guess you have been thinking about something other than basketball players.”

He gives an exaggerated huff. “Hey, just one basketball player.”

Kelsi looks at him with something like sympathy. Which makes sense, considering their situations. “That's almost worse.”

Ryan sighs. “I know.”

He brightens, though, when she asks how the choreography is coming, and they begin to discuss compositions and dance moves, specifically which ones are the most platonic and un-sexy to use for Chad's part, and how not to die while rehearsing with him.


	5. all the guys in here don't really want to dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "Sing" by Ed Sheeran

The dying, it turns out, is easily avoidable, at least while Jason refuses to do so much as bend his knees and Taylor, inspirational as she is, will not move her hips a millimeter, and Kelsi, as much as she loves him, will not believe his insistence that they can just use a recording, come join us, dammit.

They've only been running through basic moves so he can get a feel for everyone's style and abilities, and it's only been an hour, but Ryan is embarrassingly close to exhausted as people begin to head home. Lord. He's supposed to be a professional.

He’s extremely aware of Chad lingering by the back wall as he rubs the towel over his face. He walks towards him a bit to retrieve his water bottle and immediately uncaps it.

“Bit of an uphill battle?” Chad asks, smirking a little.

Ryan does something between a laugh and a scoff. “Not like you're helping.”

Because, seriously, Chad's arms in a tank top? Huge distraction.

Chad spreads his hands in a gesture of willingness or something, it's hard to tell because again, _arms_ , and says, “Then show me how to help.”

_“What would you have me do?”_ Ryan remembers, and about chokes on his water.

“Well, if you really don't want to embarrass yourself, I can show you a few things.” He runs through the first few steps and isn't off by even a millimeter despite Chad's intent focus on him.

“Yeah, you're gonna really need to slow that down.”

“Okay, start with just the feet. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.” The cadence of it is relaxing, familiar. He repeats it and motions for Chad to mimic his steps. “Yeah, good. Bend your knees a little bit so it's less stiff. Nice. Okay, try to not look at your feet this time.” That was probably a bad idea, because Chad looks at his eyes instead. “Okay, now add the arms. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. A little higher from your shoulders. No, like, okay—”

Very carefully, and with enough space for Chad to pull back, Ryan adjusts his position. Which, wow. Who knew the human arm even had so many muscles. He steps back the second Chad's arm is in the right place, because this is cliché enough and he's awkward and desperate enough without adding in any shit like lingering touches.

“Okay, better. One more time.” He stops moving and counts, watching Chad run the moves from memory. “Good. That's a lot better, you might actually manage not to embarrass me.” He grins.

Chad rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. “Maybe you should worry about not embarrassing yourself—haven't you worn that hat twice this week? Thought that was some kind of crime.”

“It's my favorite,” Ryan says, shrugging, too thrown off by Chad _noticing_ to remember it's the one he let Chad borrow before it's too late, the implications are already out there, floating in the air between them—“or, you know, top five,” he amends lamely. “Can't pick a favorite child and all that.”

“Well, I'm honored,” and crap, Chad's so much more observant than he thought, “and I'm not even going to comment on your calling your hats your children, or you thinking that picking five favorite “children” is somehow more fair than just one. Or how many hats you must own to have a top five.”

He's smirking and it's the first time Ryan's had an appropriate use for the word _disarming_ and shit this is not going to end well.

“Too many, by your count.” And Chad laughs and Ryan tosses him his water bottle and very carefully looks at the opposite wall, the one without the mirror, as Chad drinks from it.

And when Chad says, “Thanks for helping me not suck at this, man. I might need it again tomorrow, though,” Ryan just nods and tries not to watch him leave because it sounds way too much like something that could be considered an invitation.

  
He calls Kelsi when he gets home.

“Hello?”

“I swear, you cannot sit at the piano the whole time tomorrow, because I will desperately need you to physically restrain me.”

He can practically hear her raised eyebrow. “Something happen?”

Ryan groans. “He wanted help with the choreography, and I let it slip that I'd let him borrow my favorite hat, and the fucking _banter_ , Kelsi, oh my god.”

She laughs. “I don't know what to tell you except good luck.”

“Thanks. I'm gonna need it.” He pauses. “I threw my weight—which, as I said, is not much—around with Fulton, by the way, and he promised a clean slate. Any update from Gabi?”

“No. I mean, we're not super close, so I get it, but…”

“I can see if Chad's heard anything from Taylor, if you want?”

“No, it's okay. Thanks, though. And thanks for talking to Fulton.”

“Sure thing. It'll work out, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

After hanging up, Ryan decides to shower off the dance practice, then flops down on his bed and stares at the ceiling. He can hear Sharpay stomping around downstairs, and—fuck this, you've got to be kidding—a guy’s voice.

He pulls out his phone. _What ep were we on? Stranded upstairs and bored._

Chad responds quickly. _idk, it should show u where u left off_

A few seconds later: _why are u stranded_

He contemplates leaving out the part about Troy, but decides to go with it. _Sharpay is downstairs with your best friend. Sounds like she's in a Mood._

_yikes.  
also, wouldn't call him my best friend right now, since he's making a deal with the devil_

Chad doesn't add “no offense,” and Ryan is almost glad; it implies he and Sharpay are separate enough that he wouldn't be offended by an insult to her. Different people in at least one person's eyes.

Of course, he normally would be offended on her behalf—she's his _sister_ —but he's kind of too pissed at her right now to care.

He does not want to know what’ll happen when she finds out about him choreographing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this has 500 hits??! thank you so much to everyone who's been reading! I'm glad I'm not the only one still obsessed with hsm and Chad & Ryan


	6. this is the way they'd love me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love each and every one of you for reading, subscribing, leaving kudos, and commenting <3 I still can't get over how not-dead this fandom is
> 
> chapter title is from "Dance, Dance" by Fall Out Boy (although who knows if that's really what they're saying)

Chad comes up to him after his shift the next day. Ryan hasn't exactly been _stalling_ , he's just… strategically pausing. Whatever, it's not embarrassing if it works.

“Ready to watch me make a fool of myself again?”

Ryan rolls his eyes and against his urge to just say _yes, let's go_ , replies, “It's not like there are any new steps since yesterday.”

“Well, maybe I'm just really bad at the old ones.” Chad is grinning and Ryan wonders for the thousandth time if all this is intentional.

“Not gonna argue with you there,” he says, and Chad elbows him.

They've only run through it once when Ryan's phone rings. He walks over to the pile of their stuff in the corner and sees it's Kelsi calling. She knows where he is—who he's with—so it must be important. “I gotta take this, consider it a water break.”

Chad nods and he swipes to answer the call. “Hey, what's up?”

“Ryan, thank god. I know you're with Chad and I'm so sorry to interrupt like this but I just need somebody to talk to right now—”

“Hey, hey, it's okay. Don't worry about it. What's going on?”

“Gabriella's quitting.”

“Sh _it_.” He starts grabbing his stuff.

“She barely warned Taylor and—Ryan, she didn't even _tell_ me so I guess I'm even more of a fucking idiot than I thought—and god, I don't want to go in and play their shitty elevator music if I'm not even going to see her, it's not like I actually wanted this job Troy was just like ‘Gabi said to invite you’ and I thought—I mean I didn't _really_ think but—”

Ryan’s at the door by now. “I know, Kels, I'm so sorry.”

He looks at Chad and tilts the phone away from his mouth. “Best friend emergency, I gotta go.”

Chad nods. “I get it, man. See you tomorrow.”

Ryan walks as fast as he can manage while still talking on the phone. “Okay, here's what we're gonna do. I'm going to drive up in my lovely car and sweep you off because we know we can't have a cry session about a girl in your house, so we're going to go to my house and eat a fuckton of ridiculously expensive ice cream and watch _Newsies_ until we don't need the tissues anymore. Okay?”

Kelsi sniffs a little. “Okay.”

He unlocks his car, tosses his stuff into the backseat, and cranks it. “Be there in five.”

 

Kelsi’s already standing outside the door when he gets there, but he honks the horn anyway. “Get in, loser, we're going shopping.”

She laughs, which is why he did it, and he grins at her as she opens the door. “Shopping was not on the list.”

He shrugs. “Shopping is always on the list. After you're feeling better, though.”

They're settled in with two spoons and a tub of ice cream that might be directly from Italy, he doesn't want to check, when she sighs.

“I knew she was straight. I knew it was the oldest and most cliché story in the book, Nerdy Lesbian Falls for Popular Straight Girl, and I did it anyway.”

“Hey, you act like you did it on purpose, it's not like you can help it. Besides, it's like I told Chad,” he takes a bite of ice cream and continues, “we don't exactly have a lot of options other than cliché unrequited crushes.”

She looks at him. “You talked about the struggle of being a gay teenager with Chad?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, but this isn't about that. Right now is your time.”

“Right now I want to know what he said.”

Ryan points his spoon at her. “No. Later. I know you've got more you want to say.”

She huffs but continues.

They're almost done with _Newsies_ — “Wow, the original movie version really was shit,” Kelsi says, wrinkling her nose—when she asks what time Sharpay will be back. He sighs.

“I don't know. I don't think we've had an actual conversation in like a week. First I was pissed that she kicked me out, and now she's pissed that I won't help her anyway, and she's gonna be pissed that I'm choreographing for you guys. You know she was in here with Troy yesterday?”

Kelsi gapes. “What the fuck?”

“Right? Like, I knew she was putting on the charms or whatever, but I never expected it to _work_.”

She looks down. “Do you think that's why Gabriella left?”

Ryan sighs again. “Yeah, probably. Maybe not that specifically, but it definitely comes back to Sharpay.”

“And Troy,” she says. “You can't blame all of this on her.”

He gives her a look like _sure I can_ but nods. “Troy too. Do you know if she broke up with him?”

“I don't know if she dumped him or they're taking a break or…” She shrugs. “It was all very vague. And I only heard it from Taylor, so.”

He scrapes the last of the ice cream off the bottom of the tub. “That's interesting.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she's Gabi’s best friend, right? You'd think she'd keep her business to herself.”

“I dunno, we talked about it with Gabriella a lot, and she asked me to back her up on team Dump His Ass.”

“And she's not dating Chad.”

Kelsi rolls her eyes at him. “Do not go all gaydar on _Taylor McKessie_.”

He shrugs. “You know how Chad is, like, not an asshole about this stuff, actually pretty informed?”

“Not really, since you refused to tell me about it around an hour ago.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Well, it's because she gave him _educational pamphlets_. Name a more classic way for a nerd to come out.”

“What, it's more classic than leaving you a voicemail at 2 a.m. saying ‘I didn't want to assume you were gay but then you told me about that guy at theatre camp so yeah, I'm a lesbian, please don't tell anyone?’”

He drops his spoon in the empty tub and leans back on the couch. “I told you, the whole point of being camp is for people to assume I'm gay. Saves a lot of trouble.”

“Yeah, you told me that _after_. Anyway, I'm not buying your conspiracy theory.”

“I'm just saying, it could happen.”

“It could, that doesn't mean it did.” She pauses and looks at him. “Thanks for ditching Chad for me.”

He waves his hand to dismiss it. “Oh, please, you know you're my top priority.”

She grins. “Yeah, I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if it wasn't already completely clear, I live my life pretending HSM3 doesn't exist. among the things I think it got wrong is Ryan and Kelsi just then starting to have a friendship—sure, Ryan was pretty absorbed with Sharpay during junior year, but I still think they would've become close, and the summer only strengthens that


	7. tonight it's "it can't get much worse"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from "Dance, Dance" again 
> 
> I know I keep saying this but WOW. you guys have no idea how much all of your feedback means to me!! I can't believe people are actually reading this and you all make me so happy
> 
> (btw, I tweaked a couple of things in the last chapter for continuity's sake/to match with canon a little better; all the content remains the same but Kelsi only finds out that Gabriella is planning to quit, not that she already has)

All hell breaks loose the next day.

Sharpay is officially dead set on ruining his life and destroying all of his hard work on both the choreography and his social life—and he should have _known_ that more of the silent treatment wouldn't be the extent of her reaction to finding out he was choreographing, honestly, but he was too distracted to predict properly—and he can't tell if everyone hates him by association or if they just still don't trust him. Ryan also has to acknowledge that there's a chance that this episode of Sharpay's Revenge: Talent Show Edition has nothing to do with him and she's _still_ only thinking about Troy, which is fucking offensive, to think he's just a disposable side casualty to her.

Gabriella officially quits, and to everyone but him, Kelsi, and Taylor—who isn't saying anything to correct the assumption—it seems like it's because of Sharpay forbidding their involvement in the talent show and not like it's something she had decided to do beforehand. Her timing doesn't exactly help things; maybe she does belong onstage, with that flair for the dramatic.

Everyone's pissed off and exhausted and half of them are avoiding him, and no rehearsal means he doesn't get to see Chad today, so he stays in the practice studio doing yoga as their shift ends and the resort starts to close. His parents own the damn place, he has a key.

He definitely isn't expecting to hear footsteps as he tries and fails to meditate for the fifth time today.

He looks up, and of course it's Chad in the doorway, because the universe can't decide whether it loves him or hates his guts.

“I know there isn't rehearsal or anything, but I was thinking we could still hang out. Figured you might not want to be alone in a house with your sister right now.”

Ryan snorts. “For her safety, I probably shouldn't be.” He studies Chad for a second. “You aren't pissed at me?”

“What part of ‘let's hang out’ suggests I'm pissed at you? And anyway, why would I be?”

Ryan shrugs. “Everybody thinks I was playing some double agent or something, that I'm the reason she found out you guys were planning to compete.”

“Nah, that wouldn't make any sense, this means too much to you. Besides, you're not that good of an actor.” Chad grins at him and he rolls his eyes.

“And after that I should want to spend the afternoon with you why, exactly?

“Because I'm charming. And it's me or Sharpay, remember?”

Ryan tilts his head like he's considering. “You make an excellent case. Okay, you've won me over.” He stands up as Chad congratulates himself. “Want to take my car?”

“It's that or my mom’s, man.”

He does a very impressive job of not crashing on the way to Chad's house.

Chad's mom is already at the door by the time Chad gets it unlocked, and when Ryan puts his hand out to shake hers, she hugs him instead. “I'm Ryan,” he says as she lets go. “I love the _Phantom_ quote.”

He gestures at a frame on the wall and she grins. “Finally, a friend of Chad's with good taste.” Chad groans.

“The girls wanted pizza,” she says, pointing to the kitchen. “There might barely be enough left for two teenage boys.” She smiles again, and Chad kisses her cheek as he heads to the kitchen. “It's nice to meet you, Ryan,” she adds as he follows.

There's an entire box of pizza left untouched. At Ryan’s raised eyebrow, Chad shrugs. “I might've mentioned I was having a friend over.”

Ryan doesn't exactly have friends over often enough to know if this—Chad telling his mom ahead of time, Chad expecting him to say yes before he even asked—is normal, so he just nods.

“We need a game plan,” Chad says around a bite of pizza after they're sitting down.

“For what?”

Chad gestures broadly. “To fix shit, to get back in the talent show, you know.”

Ryan grins at him. “What, so you're saying you want to dance now?”

He expects Chad to roll his eyes, but instead, one corner of his mouth quirks upward and _wow_. Ryan is fucking doomed. “You might've convinced me.”

Ryan folds his hands on the table and leans forward conspiratorially. “Well in that case, let's save the show.”

Chad grins. “Knew you'd see reason, Evans.”

Deciding to get their slot in the talent show back is a lot easier than actually making a plan to accomplish this, so they quickly agree that the best course of action is to ask Taylor for help in the morning and spend their current time trying to forget about their shitty day.

It works; they're sprawled out on Chad's couch playing video games, and Ryan smiles when he realizes he hasn't thought about Sharpay in a couple hours. Then he thinks about her and groans.

“At least it's Friday, man.”

Ryan sighs. “That just means a whole weekend stuck with her.”

“Yikes,” Chad agrees. “You could spend the night here, if you want.”

Holy shit. Really fucking bad idea, but _holy shit_.

“Nah, I'll have to face her—by which I mean face avoiding her—eventually, but thanks.”

Chad shrugs. “If you want to, it's cool, though.”

“Thanks.” He's not sure if it's a good idea to continue, but he does. “I've never actually spent the night at someone else's house before.”

Chad glances at him, surprised. “Really? Troy used to stay over all the time.”

He sees the way Chad's expression changes at _used_ _to_ and knows he should probably ask about it, and would now if he were a better person, but he needs to finish gauging Chad's reaction. “Yeah, well… Troy's different.”

“Yeah,” Chad says, but it's soft, and Ryan thinks, very briefly, that Chad might not mean it the way he does.

He forces himself to keep going. “I didn't really have many friends growing up, and the ones I had were usually girls so their parents weren't about to allow me in their homes overnight, and the few friends I had who were boys… either they or their parents—usually both—were pretty wary of that, too.”

Chad lets out a long breath. “Damn.” He glances at Ryan. “My mom wouldn't care, you know. And I don't.”

“Thanks. I should probably head home now, though.”

Chad nods and walks with him to the door, then stands there watching as he pulls out. Ryan lifts a hand in a wave and sees him smile.

Now to face the human hurricane.


	8. careful now, what you do to my head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "Tightrope" by Walk the Moon

Sharpay is gloating.

He can tell because of the playlist she has on, because it used to be their celebration playlist whenever they got a lead role. Which basically means she thinks she's already won the talent show.

At least she has her door closed.

He texts Chad. _can we bring Kelsi in on Operation Save the Show?_

Chad says yes, so Ryan sends him her number to make a group chat. He can practically hear Taylor’s sigh through the text.

_I'm too busy for scheming, boys._

But then Kelsi points out that everyone was really upset over Gabriella leaving and them being banned from the show, so fixing one of those things would “boost morale,” and Taylor relents.

_12pm sharp at Starbucks tomorrow. Danforth, if you're one minute late, you're off the team._

Ryan smiles. He has no idea how they'll pull this off, but it's impossible to doubt Taylor’s abilities.

He leaves the house before 9 to avoid Sharpay and drives around aimlessly, then picks up Kelsi and they talk in his car for almost an hour. Then, Starbucks.

“This feels too corporate to be the location for plotting a coup d'etat,” Kelsi comments when they're all at a table.

Taylor grins and says something about being inconspicuous in “the natural habitat of the 21st-century adolescent” and Chad clears his throat.

“There’s now an English-only rule while we're plotting.”

Taylor rolls her eyes and says, “By English do you mean a sixth grade vocabulary?” but her smirk is somehow fond.

“So I was thinking,” Chad says, folding his hands loosely on the table, “why stop with fixing one of the two problems? Go big or go home, right?”

Ryan glances at Kelsi and she nods, silently telling him _I'm okay_ , so he says what he's thinking: “I don't think we can convince Gabriella to come back. That's out of our control.”

Chad just shrugs. “We,” he gestures to himself and Taylor, “have already gotten them back together once. Doing it again can't be any harder.”

“That's different,” Taylor says. “In that scenario, we were the ones responsible for Troy and Gabriella breaking up, so explaining our involvement was a big step in reuniting them. This was fully Gabriella’s decision.”

“Also, Troy's an asshole now,” Kelsi adds flatly, looking up from the table.

Taylor nods. “That too.”

“He seemed like a pretty big asshole last time and we still pulled it off,” Chad counters. “Besides, maybe we can knock some sense into him.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “He's doing the talent show with Sharpay. All sense is officially gone.”

Chad shakes his head. “My best friend is in there somewhere. We've just gotta get him back.”

Lacking any ideas as to how they could actually do so, they finish their drinks and talk about the other issue instead.

“Kelsi told me what you did for Gabriella,” Taylor says to Ryan. “Could you talk to Fulton about this?”

He shakes his head, fiddling with his straw. “Sharpay's orders override my requests.”

“Then make it an order,” Taylor suggests, and he frowns.

“I'm not going to be that person. I've grown up with her, I know what happens when people act the way she does.” He doesn't say _It's taken long enough for people to see that I'm not her_ , but he looks up to see Chad giving Taylor a look like _drop it_ and figures he picked up on the unspoken sentiment.

When they're finally out of ideas, they agree to text each other if they think of anything and start walking to the door.

“Do you need a ride?” Taylor asks Kelsi.

“Oh, no, Ryan's taking me, thanks.”

“Well, I drove Chad, and I'd much prefer if we switched.” She's looking at Ryan now, and he swallows.

“Yeah, that's fine, if you want to, Kels.”

Kelsi agrees, so he and Chad go to his car. Ryan is about to back out when he pauses with his hands on the steering wheel.

“I really don't want to go home right now.”

Chad looks at him and shrugs after a second. “I don't have anywhere to be.”

There's a movie theater, which is a bad idea; he'd just spend two hours in the dark hyper-aware of Chad's presence. The pool is an even worse idea. As he's trying to think of an activity that is not remotely sexual, Chad speaks up.

“We could go shoot hoops, I have a goal in my driveway.”

Ryan gives him a look. “You highly overestimate my athletic ability.”

Chad grins. “I've seen you play baseball, remember? You can't say that anymore.”

Ryan remembers. He has to very actively stop himself from remembering. “Okay, well, my basketball skills specifically are sub-par.”

“Tell you what. You shoot hoops with me, I'll let you teach me some of that yoga stuff.”

Ryan arches an eyebrow and tries to remind himself that yoga doesn't necessarily qualify as Absolutely 100% Non-Sexual. Then he feels bad for corrupting something so sacred with his horny teenage brain.

“You just want to play against someone you know you can beat.”

“No, I just want to _play_. Troy's been ditching me for weeks. Zeke's come over a few times but everyone's usually too tired after work.”

Ryan gives a dramatic sigh. “Fine, I give you permission to crush me, a humble theater nerd, in a humiliating defeat on the basketball court to boost your ego.”

Chad grins and Ryan heads to his house.

He isn't exactly wearing clothes ideal for exercising, but Chad doesn't change either, so it's fair on that front. In every other aspect, not so much. He wasn't lying about his lack of ability, and it's not long before Chad has kicked his ass at a one-on-one game and they switch to taking turns shooting free throws.

Chad is laughing at him.

It's good-natured, teasing, and Ryan is glad he gets flushed when he exercises because otherwise his blush would be way too obvious.

“Yeah, well, they didn't exactly teach us this at drama camp,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“I'll teach you,” says Chad, and before Ryan can protest or even process how bad of an idea that is, Chad is behind him, guiding his arms into position. It’s something Troy's probably done with Gabriella, he realizes, just with a lot more traditional gender roles and heteronormativity.

Ryan releases the ball at Chad's cue and manages to breathe again when Chad finally steps back.

It goes in, the backboard shuddering, and Chad whoops. Ryan starts narrowing down the list of his favorite yoga exercises.


	9. faking smiles and confidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from "We Don't Have to Dance" by Andy Black
> 
> I literally rewatched hsm2 today to give me inspiration what is my life

The week before the talent show is disappointingly uneventful. Sharpay is still gloating, and he gives Chad a steady update on how obnoxious she's being, and they all begin to realize that not even Taylor knows how to fix this.

So instead, they distract themselves. Chad finds him almost every afternoon, and they do anything that involves him not going home to Sharpay and Kelsi not going home, period. A couple of times, Kelsi and Taylor already have plans, and Chad pesters him until he gives in and plays basketball with him, but it's usually the four of them, getting frozen yogurt or fast food after their shifts are over, or just laying on the grass in Chad's backyard and talking. Gabriella comes with them, sometimes, and after a few days Kelsi stops looking like she's dying inside, so he figures things will be okay.

  
The day of the talent show, Kelsi finds him.

They'd reluctantly given up on saving the day—“It's logistically impossible,” Taylor had said, her head in her hands—so when she tells him how Troy has returned to his waitstaff position and left Sharpay alone for her performance, he's more than a little pissed that once again, Troy is the only one with the power to fix things.

Still, Ryan's the one who finally has a plan.

Troy is shockingly easy to manipulate. Ryan almost stops blaming him for doing Sharpay's bidding so easily, because it seems like he's either too easygoing or too unobservant to notice what's actually going on. The whole thing leaves a bad taste in Ryan's mouth, but he'd cleared the plan with Chad first, so he forges ahead. Chad had been doubtful that it would actually work, but he'd either overestimated Troy’s skills of perception or underestimated Ryan's skills of persuasion.

He finds Troy on his break, sitting alone. Evidently, despite him going back to the kitchen job, all is not forgiven to the rest of the Wildcats. Ryan walks up to him.

“Hey.”

Troy glances at him, and Ryan can see him trying to keep his face from betraying his dislike. Seriously, he's not that good of an actor, last year must've been some sort of miracle. Or penance for his and Sharpay's sins. Ryan sighs.

“Look, I just want you to know, I saw how you were looking at us every time I was around Gabriella, and that's not a thing. Like, that will never be a thing. And I'm sorry if you were worried about it.” It physically pains him not to rant about buying into a cultural myth that boys and girls can't be friends without romantic feelings, not to mention the twenty layers of heteronormativity, but he would like to avoid coming out to Troy, so he stops himself.

“Oh.” Troy looks at him, head tilted slightly. “Uh, thanks, man. I'm sorry I was being an idiot.”

Ryan shrugs, even though he wants to ask if Troy realizes exactly how many people he's hurt. “Happens to the best of us.” Pause for dramatic effect. “Chad really misses you, though.”

Troy scoffs quietly. “I don't think Chad wants to talk to me ever again.”

“Well, he talks about you a lot. He's just too stubborn to make the first move.” _In more ways than one._ “Towards apologizing,” he elaborates.

“You really think he'd listen if I tried to apologize?”

Ryan smiles at him. “Lead with talking about how much you screwed up, and his ‘I told you so’ instincts will make him keep listening.”

Troy nods. He doesn't exactly say thank you, but Ryan wasn't expecting him to, so he leaves to continue his plan.

After an extremely rushed run-through, with only about a third of the staff there at once because of their staggered breaks, he proclaims that they haven't forgotten _everything_ he's ever taught them, and that this just might be salvageable. Chad is grinning and giving him a look he does not have time to analyze.

He has to find Sharpay.

  
She's in her dressing room, decked out in sparkles and trying to coax him back now that it's convenient. Not even coaxing, really, just demanding like always, _assuming_ he'll do exactly as she says.

“I'm not doing the show,” he says, and smiles, smug as fuck. He hopes it's a lie.

She's not even outraged. She just laughs, like he's being ridiculous, like he couldn't possibly be serious.

“You've always wanted the spotlight,” he says. “Now you've got it. Break a leg.” He realizes that he doesn't even sound bitter, just matter-of-fact with a sarcastic flair. And maybe he isn't bitter, now; he's not competing with Sharpay to fill her role in life anymore, to be the one people pay attention to, and he's not blindly following her orders, either. He's his own person, and she's pissed.

Nowhere near as pissed as she's about to be, though.


	10. this is hell, yes, literal hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "We Don't Have to Dance" by Andy Black
> 
> I'm sorry this update took so long! Thank you so much to everyone who read, commented, and left kudos in the meantime!

When Troy comes into the kitchen to apologize, Ryan is already there, waiting for this exact moment. He's expecting Troy’s regret and Chad's forgiveness, but he's actually a bit thrown when Troy turns and apologizes to _him_ , too, and says he knows how hard Ryan's worked (he doesn't, but it's a nice sentiment). He almost forgets his next line when Chad gestures at him and tells Troy, “You should see this dude play baseball,” because ironically, if there's anything that can throw him off his game, it's the memory of that game.

He forces his mind back to the task at hand and manages to suggest, under the guise of concerned brother, that Troy save Sharpay from falling on her face. He knows Troy will agree to it; he's been an asshole lately, but he's either kind to those in crisis or has a huge need to be a hero. Either way, Ryan can work with it.

Troy leaves to tell Sharpay he’ll sing with her, and Ryan pulls out his phone.

“Fulton,” he says, glancing at Chad's nervous expression. This is the only part of the plan Ryan is not completely confident in. He's banking on a summer’s worth—years of summers, really—of never asking for anything imported or gold-plated or limited edition, and on whatever goodwill results from not being the one to demand they hire local high schoolers.

“How's the show going?”

There are incoherent but undoubtedly frantic noises in the background. He hopes Sharpay hasn't broadcast her re-involvement yet; he needs chaos for this to work.

“Listen, as much as I support that sock puppet finally winning a Star Dazzle award” —he pauses for Fulton’s groan as the thought of Ryan's parents watching a trophy be handed to someone other than their child sinks in— “I really think the junior staffers I've been working with deserve a shot. And I know I'm not the one with the authority to change that, but you know how often Sharpay changes her mind; I think she's come around on this. Why don't you ask her?”

Normally, Fulton would never go back on a rule at the last minute like this, even if Sharpay told him to, but Ryan's hoping he'll realize that they need at least one decent act, and after Fulton has witnessed Sharpay's post-meltdown state, hopefully it'll be clear that her song won't single-handedly save the show and his job.

Now here's hoping Troy’s savior complex is as big as Ryan thinks it is.

  
Ryan is rarely wrong. Troy bursts into the kitchen yelling that they can do the show, he convinced Sharpay, hurry up and get ready, and Ryan steps back and lets him have his moment. Chad looks annoyed at first, but Ryan smiles and mouths _it's_ _okay_ when Chad catches his eye, and that seems to reassure him that he doesn't need to make a scene about Troy taking all the credit.

Ryan is strangely touched, and shoves the whole interaction into the pile of things he’ll think about later when he has time for anything other than fixing people's ties and doing vocal exercises and making sure everyone calls Gabriella and confirms that she's coming and she knows the song.

Kelsi, superhero that she is, whisks Troy away to teach him “Sharpay's” new number while Ryan double-checks hair and makeup and tells Gabriella where to park and wait for him, and manages to focus on anything but Chad.

“You're incredible, man,” Chad says, patting his shoulder before they all pile out the door, and Ryan can't think of anything else.

  
He'd be lying if he said it didn't feel fucking amazing to watch Sharpay as Troy asks why she changed the song. “But I didn't learn a new song!” she splutters, still not fully realizing that this isn't just a fluke.

“Exactly,” Ryan says, and that feels fucking amazing, too.

  
It feels decidedly less amazing to watch Troy and Gabriella onstage. They're smiling at each other and making up in public like their pettiness never even happened, and it's so _fucking_ unfair that Kelsi's songs, Kelsi's feelings, keep being repurposed to serve in this heterosexual bullshit, that Troy and Gabriella never bother to think where her inspiration comes from, that they essentially assume their relationship deserves to have songs written about it.

He looks at Kelsi, and she's smiling at what could just be the Wildcats in general but he knows is Taylor specifically, and he thinks maybe his defensiveness and righteous indignation isn't only for her sake.

It sucks to feel like a minor character in his own life. He's used to it, of course—Sharpay was never subtle about being the best, the lead, the most important person in any room they entered—but maybe he'd let himself think that things would be different now that, what? People are being civil to him? Troy Bolton made empty promises about playing baseball with him someday?

He looks away from Troy and Gabriella’s heterosexual happy ending that he spent weeks of his life trying to bring about, and swallows when his gaze lands on Chad. He pulled off a fucking miracle today, and all he wants to do is cry.


	11. so sue me if I go too fast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to everyone who's stuck with this and to everyone who's left comments in the meantime! y'all really motivated me to keep going with this. sorry it's ridiculously late; this semester was so much crazier than I expected, and I thought I'd get it done over thanksgiving break, but that didn't work out. again thank you all so much <3
> 
> chapter title is from "1999" by Prince

Sharpay gives him the trophy, because she doesn’t believe in apologizing, but when she has to, she’s going to make it a Grand Gesture. On the one hand, it doesn’t make up for how she’s treated everyone like shit all summer, but he knows how big a deal it is to her, and it’s reassuring; he doesn’t expect her to fully snap out of her Troy-crazy phase, but she’s acknowledging that trying to keep him offstage was going too far. It’s more than he expected.

Everyone is laughing and cheering and congratulating him, but Ryan escapes to the dressing room as soon as possible, and stands there staring at all the outrageous lights in order to avoid looking into the mirror, fighting the tears that threaten to tear apart his composure, his perfect act. Because it is an act, all this confidence, constantly pretending he doesn't care what everyone says about him and Sharpay but mostly him; sure, she's catty, but at least she's straight, at least people are afraid of her because she's mean to them, not because they're repulsed by the thought of her making a move on them.

He's just… so sick of it. He couldn't even funnel all of his emotions into a character last year, which meant his only options were to steadfastly ignore them or to deal with them, so here he is still carrying around this mind that occasionally spits out things like how he'll never be in love, which is as annoying as it is painful because he _knows_ he won't be stuck in Albuquerque forever. It's only another year, but it feels so much more overwhelming than that, sometimes.

Someone knocks on the dressing room door.

“Just a second,” he calls, voice almost as bright as it should be, and shoves his insecurity down to deal with whenever he has more time. The show must go on, et cetera. He rubs furiously at his face with a makeup wipe to offer an explanation for the redness, then opens the door. Chad is leaning against the opposite wall in the narrow backstage hallway.

“Congratulations again, man. You deserve it.”

Ryan flushes slightly, but his face was already red, so whatever. “You all deserve it, too. Everyone was great; this wasn’t just a one-man operation.”

“Yeah, but we never could’ve done it without you.” Chad is bouncing on his toes. “Listen, some of us are going out on the golf course; Taylor and Kelsi bought those paper lantern things and want to launch them.”

Ryan isn’t sure that launch is the best word for that, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, sure. I’m surprised Taylor is into that; aren’t they bad for the environment?”

“They’re biodegradable,” Chad says, rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling. “You ready to go?”

Ryan tucks the trophy safely into his bag and inspects his reflection. He definitely looks like he’s been crying. Whatever, it’ll be dark. “Lead the way,” he says, and Chad grins again and heads towards the door.

Ryan follows him out to the golf course, where Troy, Gabi, Sharpay, Zeke, Martha, Jason, Taylor, and Kelsi are already waiting. Martha’s trying to help Jason assemble a lantern, which is in an impossible amount of pieces, and Kelsi and Taylor are chatting with one another and beaming, a lantern ready at their feet. Sharpay is being uncharacteristically tolerant of Zeke, who looks thrilled, while Troy and Gabriella stare into one another’s eyes as expected.

Ryan looks at the stars instead. They aren’t usually this noticeable; someone must’ve convinced Fulton to dim the lights on the golf course.

Ryan hadn’t noticed Chad walk over to the collection of lanterns, but he looks down when he hears footsteps coming towards him. Chad holds up a lantern.

“There’s only enough to have one for every two people,” he says. “You cool with sharing?”

“Yeah, of course.” It doesn’t mean anything. Jason and Martha, at least, are completely platonic.

Everyone spreads out to different sections of the hill, which is a good plan, because he wants to be as far away as possible from Troy and Gabriella’s makeup make-out session. He says as much to Chad, who laughs; the lantern light catches on his hair and jaw and cheekbones, glints against his eyes, and Ryan swallows hard.

They launch (it turns out Ryan can’t think of a better word for it) the lanterns in an uncoordinated but energetic effort, and Ryan tips his head back to watch instead of looking at Chad’s throat as he does the same or thinking about how their fingers brushed when they sent it into the sky. They’re standing close enough that Ryan is extremely aware of the proximity of Chad’s shoulder every time he breathes.

Chad’s hand brushes his, and he stops breathing.

 _It’s an accident_ , he thinks, and forces himself to inhale and exhale to the rhythm he uses during yoga. He tries to find any of the constellations he knows.

Chad’s fingers brush against his again, and don’t move away. Ryan keeps searching for Orion, desperately, like if he looks down he’ll bring himself back to a reality where Chad’s hand pressed to his is impossible. He’s not even sure which constellations are out during the summer.

Chad tilts his hand so their palms are touching, and Ryan thinks, _fuck it, he can’t get much less subtle_ , and interlocks their fingers.

He dares to look down. Beside him, Chad is holding his hand and smiling.

“Not gonna lie, I’ve been trying to get up the nerve to do that for weeks,” Chad says, and Ryan gapes at him. “Since the baseball game, probably, or pretty soon after,” he continues, as if Ryan isn’t standing there dying, floating into the stars, tethered to earth only by Chad’s hand.

 _My god, you’re melodramatic_ , Ryan thinks at himself, but whatever, this situation more than any other merits melodrama.

“I,” Ryan says. “Holy shit.”

Chad smiles up at the sky, then glances at him. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since then, too.”

“Holy shit,” Ryan repeats, and they’re drifting towards each other, kind of awkwardly but kind of naturally. “Everyone else is still out here,” Ryan points out, in case Chad forgot, and tries not to think about how he’ll handle it if that’s the case, but Chad just rolls his eyes.

“I honestly could not give less of a shit right now. We have to watch Troy and Gabi all the damn time; they can deal with it. I mean—unless you have a problem with that?”

“Couldn’t give less of a shit,” Ryan agrees, and Chad leans closer.

Right before their lips meet, the sprinklers turn on.

“Oh, _shit_!” Chad yells, laughing, tipping his head back. The water clings to his hair and catches the faint light. Chad wipes the water out of his eyes and grins and leans in and kisses him and he’s still smiling, and Ryan is smiling too, so much that it’s hard to kiss and smile at the same time but he doesn’t care, and Chad pulls back but his hand is still on the back of Ryan’s neck and he presses their foreheads together and just grins as they get fucking drenched.


	12. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you SO much to everyone who has supported this work! this is the first longer fic I've done, and I never expected that something started on a whim to fulfill my burning need for chad/ryan content at 3am after watching all 3 hsm movies would turn into something people actually read. y'all's support has meant the world to me and I really appreciate it, and I hope you enjoy the final chapter!

It’s the last day of summer, and Ryan is waiting for Chad to break up with him.

He’s been anticipating it with equal parts nervousness and resignation for the past two weeks—if not since the day they first kissed, a constant pressure between his ribs saying _you know this can’t last—_ because this is just a summer mirage, easily dismissed as the heat of the moment or as Ryan being delusional, depending on how firmly Chad decides to deny it.

Taylor and Kelsi know, which gave him a little bit of frustrating hope to begin with, but that’s different, because they’re holding hands in the backseat as Ryan drives them to Taylor’s house, Chad grinning from the passenger side. He’s rolled the window down, and his hair is blowing across his face.

It’s not like Ryan expects him to come out to the whole school, of course. He doesn’t really think there’s much of a point in creating a target for oneself, plus Chad plays a ridiculous number of sports throughout the year, and Ryan knows from personal experience how hard it is to be on a team with people who hate your very existence. So. It’s not like he wants Chad to stand on a cafeteria table and out himself by declaring his undying love or something, it’s just—

Chad hasn’t told Troy yet. He hasn’t told his mom, either, though Ryan’s pretty sure she knows, based on the number of times she’s started humming songs from _Boy Meets Boy_ while he’s over. Again, it’s not like Chad is obligated to tell people—Ryan certainly hasn’t told his dad, who has never said anything negative about his sexuality but never mentions it, either—and Ryan’s never gotten the impression that Troy is particularly tolerant, despite his newfound interest in show business, so Chad’s avoidance of the topic is understandable, but. It just means it’ll be that much easier for Chad to pretend this never happened.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?” Chad asks, after Ryan has dropped off Taylor and Kelsi and pulled into Chad’s driveway.

Ryan turns the car off.

“Sure.” He can hear his pulse pounding, louder than it has before any stage performance, but he tilts his head slightly to achieve a look of both vague confusion and nonchalance. “What’s up?”

Chad rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not a big deal, really, I just—I told Troy about us, yesterday, and I wanted you to know. He’s got kind of a big mouth, sometimes, so maybe I should’ve asked you first, I don’t know, just—don’t be surprised if half the school is staring at us tomorrow. Sorry.”

Ryan laughs, more from the relief and disbelief flooding his system than any actual hilarity Chad’s statement might hold. “You are obviously underestimating how much I enjoy attention.”

Chad smiles softly. “I know you don’t all the time, though. Not with, like, personal stuff,” he says, and Ryan swallows hard at just how well Chad knows him.

“Yeah, well,” Ryan says, shrugging one shoulder, “I’ll be fine. How did Troy take it?”

Chad sighs. “About how I expected. He’s trying, I guess, he’s just also pretty obviously freaked out that we’ve, like, had sleepovers all our lives. It reminded me of what you said that time after the baseball game, about communal showers.”

Ryan nods. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Chad shrugs. “He’ll get over it. And if he doesn’t, then… I’ll deal with it.”

“He will,” Ryan says, because he might not trust Troy Bolton, but he trusts Chad’s taste in friends, as well as Chad’s ability to win people over. Chad nods in acknowledgement, then grins.

“Man, I’m just thinking about the next time Darbus gives me detention, how hilarious it’ll be to think of her reaction if she found out I’m dating her favorite student.”

“Not her _favorite_ ,” Ryan protests, mostly to mask the way his breath still catches at the word _dating_.

Chad elbows him, shaking his head. “No, seriously, she might be fawning over Sharpay all the time, but you’re the only one she can stand to have an actual conversation with.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. It is true, though. “Don’t use me as your get-out-of-detention-free card,” he says loftily, instead of doing something crazy like kissing him.

He doesn’t have to; Chad leans over and kisses his cheek, laughing, and says, “Of course not. I’d never sully your reputation.”

“I might sully yours,” Ryan mutters, the insecurity from the last few weeks—and years, in the greater scheme of things, the fear in his eyes disguised beneath the brim of a hat—still needing to escape somehow. Chad hears him, though, and frowns, waiting until Ryan meets his eyes.

“I told you I don’t give a shit what people think,” Chad says firmly. “I still don’t. I like you, Evans.”

Ryan rolls his eyes and laughs and asks why they aren’t past that yet, after almost a month of dating, and Chad just grins and kisses him goodbye and yells “See you tomorrow, Evans!” over his shoulder on his way inside.

Ryan’s always simultaneously dreaded and longed for the first day of school, ready to interact with people other than his sister but also knowing that most of them don’t know who he is apart from his sister, but now—

They’re going to be seniors. He’s dating Chad Danforth. This year just might be kind of awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you enjoyed this, be on the lookout for an upcoming unrelated fic that'll basically be a chad/ryan fix-it of their senior year. now to find a place where I can pirate hsm3... 
> 
> (update: aforementioned fic is titled "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" if you want to check it out!)
> 
> I'm on tumblr @basilhallward, feel free to send me prompts or come say hi!


End file.
